Okay. He could breathe now. Okay. He could get his mind around this now that he had an action plan. This could work. He had everything he needed in his office, he just needed to make quick work of it. “Thank you, Mom. I really didn’t know who else to call.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she said gently, then added, “We can talk about that apology for your behavior with Steve later.”
He sighed. “That’s fair. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, son.”
The moment he ended the call he was suddenly filled with desperate motivation. He dove into his research with a singular focus. He had to be able to prove to Lula that her father could be dangerous. If she still wanted to meet him after that he would stand by her side, but she needed to have the facts.
He read and re-read every scrap of paper he had and didn’t leave his office until he knew what he needed wasn’t there. He was going to need Tom for this.
A quick phone call and a frantic drive later, Dom was at the Chicago History Museum at one in the morning, rifling through old news articles from the 1976 trial of Menotti’s youngest son, Antonio, with Tom at his side. He remembered how the mobsters had shown up at the courthouse every day and was hoping to find a connection to the Zetticci’s in one of the photos.
“I think you’re going to want to see this.” Tom’s excited voice pulled Dom from his microfiche machine, and he wheeled his chair over to Tom’s station to take a look. He pointed to a man in the background of a shot. “I think this is Guido Zetticci.”
Dom felt a mix of excitement and dread zing up his spine. “That’s him,” he whispered as Tom zoomed in on the image of Lula’s grandfather, reaching out to shake Antonio’s hand as he left the courthouse a free man. “And look.” Just under the cuff of his expensive suit was the Stella d’Italia scar.
“Shit.” Tom shook his head. “It must be passed down in the family, which means ...”
“Lula’s dad,” Dom finished. His stomach turned over, heavy with dread. It was enough proof for him that Giovanni Zetticci was dangerous by association, but he knew Lula would want more.
“Didn’t you say there were pictures of the three of them on the Zetticci restaurant website?”
“Yeah.” Dom wheeled his chair over to a laptop and brought up the browser. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? But sure enough, in the picture of Giovanni with his arm around his wife, Dom could just make out two of the five points of the entirely too familiar star-shaped scar. To an uneducated eye, it would be impossible to detect, but it was as clear as a neon sign to Dom. He stared in disbelief.
“Shit, man,” Tom broke the dumbfounded silence after a few minutes. “I think you have everything you need for now. There’s no denying that kind of proof.” He leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his red hair. “I was just thinking, though, those two murders that happened downtown a few months ago.” His voice was heavy. “All the cops found was—”
“Chalk drawing of a simple five-point star,” Dom finished. The words came out slow, each one punctuating the uneasiness growing in his stomach. Lula could be putting herself in real danger.
“Holy shit,” Tom breathed, realizing what this might mean.
With panic flooding his veins, Dom fumbled for his phone and was surprised it was three in the morning. An update from Amy assured him that Lula was safe at home with her. He let out a sigh of relief and sent her a thank you that she probably wouldn’t see for hours. And as badly as he wanted to bust into Lula’s house and show her this proof, to protect her, he knew it needed to wait. He could catch her at school tomorrow morning. Not to mention, he needed rest if he was going to make an informed case.
After thanking Tom profusely, Dom helped him lock up and headed home. Once there he fell onto his bed, still fully clothed, and slipped into an exhausted sleep.
Chapter 33
Lula
Walking into school the next morning was difficult. Lula’s head hurt, her heart ached, and she was terrified she would run into Dom. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Even if every cell in her body yearned for him.
She taught the first half of the day without really engaging—she just went through the motions. Her students rolled along with her without comment. They knew she had lost her grandmother and seemed subdued and understanding.
She had never been so grateful for high school students’ limited understanding of emotions.
Her eyes flitted to the door every few minutes and she hadn’t turned on her phone in two days. By the time the last hour rolled around, she was desperate to get out of there.
In a haste, she asked another teacher to cover her last period and fled the building like her feet were on fire.
She didn’t know where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there. She just knew she had to get out of the building. Away from the possibility of seeing Dom.
By the time she realized what she was doing, she found herself parked across the street from Zetticci’s. She didn’t get out. She just sat and stared at the façade wondering how on earth she got here and what she was going to do now that she was.
Dominic
Dominic had never had a more disastrous day in his life. He had overslept by hours, rushed to school only to get trapped into a parent meeting he had forgotten about. By the time he was done with that, there were only two periods left in the day and he was dying to get to Lula.
He tried to teach as best he could, but he honestly wasn’t sure if he was making sense—the students just watched him with wide eyes and he hated to think what was going through their minds.
After the last bell, he ran all the way to Lula’s room only to find it empty. Fuck.
“Amy,” he said, bursting into the library, “do you know where Lula is?”
“She was here today,” she said, confused, making a face. “I had lunch with her.”
“But where is she now?”
Amy shook her head, worry drawing her features together.
Panic fell to the bottom of his stomach like a heavy stone. She wouldn’t, would she?
“Shit, I’ve got to find her, Amy.”
“Go,” she said. “Hurry, I’ll look around here and make sure she isn’t just hiding somewhere. I’ll keep you posted.”
He nodded and ran out of the building as fast as he could.
He didn’t even breathe until his car was moving. He called Mason.
“Yo, Dom, what’s up?” he answered.
“How fast can you be in Little Italy?”
“Why man? What’s up?”
“I think Lula might be in trouble. Can you meet me there?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “I will be there in fifteen.”
“Perfect, the restaurant is called Zetticci’s. On Taylor Street. Thank you, Mason.”
“See you in fifteen.”
He hung up and pushed the accelerator to the floor. Please God, please let Lula be safe. Please protect her.
After twenty minutes of screaming at streetlights and laying so hard into his horn that it started to whine, he was finally near the restaurant. He blanched when he saw Lula’s car there, empty.
Fuck. Bile rose in his stomach and threatened forward. He burst from his car and toward the restaurant like a bull.
“Whoa.” Mason caught him with a hand on his chest. “Slow down. Tell me what’s going on and let’s make a plan before we go barreling in.”
The relief of his brother’s huge presence was instant. He pulled him into a quick hug. “Thank you for coming.”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
Chapter 34
Lula
Lula had sat in her car for nearly an hour, just looking at the Zetticci’s sign before she gathered the nerve to enter.
There was hardly anyone there, just a few occupied tables. Frank Sinatra was playing through the speakers; it was a thin, tinny sound.
“Welcome to Zetticci’s,” the hostess sai
d, snapping her out of her daze. She was young and uninterested with dark hair and big pretty amber eyes that made Lula’s stomach roll. “How many today?”
She panicked. What the hell did she do now? She hadn’t thought this through at all. Goddammit, Lu, she chastised herself. “It’s just me,” she answered pathetically and shook her head as she followed the hostess to her table.
“I’ll be your waitress today as well. Anything to drink?”
“Uh, just water is fine.” The hostess snapped her gum and walked away.
Lula let out a sigh once she was alone and tried to get her head straight. She was here, she just needed to figure out how to proceed. Breathe in. Breathe out.
She wished Dom was with her.
No, no she didn’t. She shooed him from her head. She could do this on her own. She had to.
When the hostess returned with the water, she folded her shaking hands and took her chance. “Can I ask you a question?”
She blinked and shrugged as if to indicate it was fine.
“Is Giovanni Zetticci here?”
“I don’t know, I’d have to go check.”
“Do you know him well?”
“I mean, he is my uncle, so, yeah.”
Her heart pounded, this girl was her cousin. She had a cousin.
“I hate to bother you about this, but I was really hoping I could speak to him today. Could you check to see if he’s in?”
The girl shrugged. “I can check, doesn’t mean he’s going to want to talk to you.”
“That’s fine, I understand. Thank you.”
And with that, she was off again. Lula felt like jumping out of her skin. Was this the right thing? Had she been too rash?
Probably. Dom would think so.
But it was too late now, she was here, she had asked to talk to the man that might be her father. She would introduce herself and just see.
The hostess returned after an excruciatingly long time during which her heart rate only continued to climb and her hands were now quaking heavily.
She looked bored. “He said he’d talk to you. Follow me.”
Ohthankgod. She took a deep breath and stood so fast from the table that she spilled her water.
Her hostess gave her a withering glance.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to put the ice back in the glass. “I’ll clean it up.”
“It’s fine, I’ll get it, just come on.”
Hands dripping with water, she followed her past the hostess stand, through the kitchens, and finally to a paneled office door with GIOVANNI ZETTICCI spelled out on a large brass plate.
“Just knock,” her potential cousin told her and sauntered back the way they came.
She stood, staring at that brass nameplate. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Her stomach felt like it was in her throat. Just knock, she told herself, taking a deep breath and shaking out her arms. Just knock.
She lifted her hand, closed her eyes, and rapped on the door sharply.
A big, gruff, booming, “Come in,” made her jump.
She reached for the handle, willing her hand to stop shaking. It didn’t comply.
A few extremely long moments later, she finally pushed the door open and stood frozen, looking into her father’s face. His dark hair was greying and slicked back, his shoulders were rounded with time, and his gut threatened to pop the buttons of his cheap, ill-fitting suit.
He stared back at her with identical eyes. It sent a chill down her spine. The door closed behind her.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, not bothering to stand as she came in. He was looking at her so intensely she could feel his energy. It wasn’t comforting.
“I,” she started, having no idea how to go on. “I just wanted to ...”
He peered at her and she watched as a sense of realization broke across his features. His lips drew into a hard line and his dead eyes seemed to get impossibly colder. “What exactly do you want from me?” he asked, his voice had lost the boom, the openness it had had before. It was dangerous and low.
She swallowed. “I don’t want anything, I just wanted to meet you.”
He shot up from his desk, startling her. “What is it, money? Do you need money?”
Tears threatened and she shook her head in surprise. “No, no, nothing like that, I just wanted to introduce myself.”
She couldn’t understand why he was so angry. All she wanted to do was to meet him.
He was on the other side of his desk faster than she could blink. He was surprisingly faster than his gut would suggest. “You don’t expect me to believe you just wanted to come here for a sweet daddy-daughter moment, do you?”
She swallowed and took a step backward. “Really, I just wanted to meet you. I don’t want anything. I don’t ... I don’t need anything from you.”
He advanced on her angrily and she moved backward until she found herself trapped against the office door. Panic choked her and as she tried to reach for the door handle, she felt his hand go tight around her neck.
With a surprising force, he shoved her against the door and squeezed her windpipe closed. “I don’t need you coming around here making trouble,” he growled. “I have enough already. I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to know.”
Tears sprang from her eyes as his fingers tightened. Her father was going to hurt her. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Dominic
When Dom and Mason entered the restaurant, Mason did a much better job at looking nonchalant than Dom. He was going out of his fucking mind.
Their plan was simple, Mason would distract the hostess by flirting while Dom found his way to wherever Lula might be. From there on, he didn’t have any fucking idea what would happen.
Thank fuck for Mason, who remained calm and charmed the cute hostess with little more than his Adams’ grin and a few effective compliments. He had her backed into the corner entering her phone number into his phone so quickly it made Dom’s head spin. The kid worked fast.
With her fully occupied, Dom slipped back through the quiet kitchens to where he could only assume there might be some sort of office.
His gut clenched when he smelled Lula’s perfume near Zetticci’s door and he paused wondering what the right move would be. Did he knock or just burst in?
A stifled cry just on the other side of the door made his mind up for him. Adrenaline rushed into his system. He stepped back, and with the full force of his muscles, slammed his body, feet-first, through the door.
The old paneling gave way and Zetticci stumbled back in surprise. Lula was on the floor, rubbing her neck and gasping for air. One look at the tears running down her cheeks and the bruise spreading across her neck and Dom lost his fucking mind.
“Who the fuck are you?” Zetticci demanded. “You can’t just—”
“The fuck I can’t,” Dom cut him off with a right hook across the jaw. Zetticci staggered back, holding his face. And before he could respond, Dom hit him again, this time an uppercut that sent him sprawling backward across his desk.
Lula gasped behind him.
He didn’t care; this fucker was going to die for putting his hands on her. Zetticci was limp on the desk and Dom grabbed him by the shirt to pull him up. “If you ever touch her again, I will end you.”
Zetticci laughed, blood spitting from his mouth. “Boy, you have no idea the connections I have.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he answered. “I know everything.” He threw a collection of papers at the man’s face that included the photographic proof of his connection to Menotti and the Stella d’Italia as well as the letter he had written to the Chicago Police Department outlining how he was the most likely suspect for two unsolved murders. “If you come anywhere near her again, I will publish this. All of it. And your whole family will go down.”
Zetticci laughed.
“Laugh now,” he said, “you won’t find it funny later.” With that, he punched him so hard in the nose he heard a crack. Zetticci
fell back on the desk and didn’t move.
He turned back to Lula who was crouching, trembling in the corner, tears raining down her face. She looked white as a ghost, her eyes on her father, unable to comprehend what had happened.
“Lu,” he said softly, “oh, my beautiful Lu,” he breathed and pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay.” He kissed her tear-stained cheeks. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
She looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded.
He marched her out of the office, grabbed Mason away from his make-out session, and burst into the cold afternoon air.
Lula
Lula cried and cried as Dom drove her across town to her place. She couldn’t quite process what had just happened, why her father would attack her, anything, really. All she knew was that Dom had saved her, and if he hadn’t ... she couldn’t quite come to grips with that yet.
He didn’t yell at her or chastise her for going to the restaurant, which was nice—she was doing enough of that herself. She should have listened. She should have known that he only had her best interests at heart.
“Will you,” she said as they pulled into her driveway. Her throat was so bruised it hurt to talk. “Will you come inside with me? I don’t want you to leave.”
His face softened and he grabbed her chin gently. “Oh, Lu, I’m not leaving you alone ever again.”
“Really?” she asked.
He ran his fingers down her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. “Really. Why would I leave the woman I love?”
Her breath caught and a wave of joy crashed over her so hard tears started falling again. But these were happy tears. She reached up and touched his jaw with a shaking hand and couldn’t keep what was in her heart any longer. “Oh, Dom, I love you too, I have for so long now.”
He let out a kept breath and smiled so wide she thought he had never looked so beautiful. “That is the best news I’ve ever heard, Tallulah Stanley. And if it’s okay with you, I’m going to take you inside and show you just how much I love you.”
She nodded, brushing the tears from her cheeks.
“Just say the word, my love.”
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